April 14, 2012
by Kiana Maria
Summary: The Titanic sails, one hundred years later. Rose DeWitt Bukater is a prep-school girl returning to America after a school trip to Europe. Ostracized and bullied by the other girls in her class, she finds ways to amuse herself below-decks.
1. April 10

The airport shuttle couldn't move through the crowd at the docks. Its windows showed hats and overcoats and suitcases and little kids sitting on their parents' shoulders. Rose DeWitt Bukater sat,

alone, in the bus's last seat. Her orange hair spilled over one shoulder. She wore a white dress she'd found in Paris, and a big purple hat.

"Everybody out!" the driver shouted, and the engine stilled. "What, we have to_ walk_?" Maddie Astor asked. In the front seats, Mr. and Mrs. Beckwith gathered their bags.

Rose pulled her purse strap over one shoulder and waited while the bus's door slid open and everyone climbed out. She pulled herself up by the seat in front of her, made her way to the steps, and hopped to the

ground. The sun was in her face, and she pulled her hat tightly onto her head.

Looking above the crowd, she saw the ship. She looked one way, then the other, but couldn't see its two ends. Its smoke stacks puffed into the sky.

"Wow," said Lucy Carter. "What a _big_ boat."

Everyone laughed, and Mrs. Beckwith said, "You can be _blase_ about some things, girls, but not about _Titanic_."

"At least we know we'll be safe," said her husband. "God himself could not sink this ship."

Rose closed her eyes and let the salty fresh air blow into her face.

"Come along," said Mrs. Beckwith. "This way."

Rose followed through the crowd. A woman stepped in front of her, walking two giant, long-haired dogs. They reached the wooden ramp, and Rose climbed aboard.

A scream from the crowd turned her head. She looked over the sea of thousands of people, and saw a woman clutching at a man's arm. Rose barely heard her hysterical words: "It's going to sink! That ship is going to sink! Save them! Save them!" The man pulled the woman away.

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Beckwith had their own room, and across the hall was a four-room suite. The parlor was paneled in mahogany, and smelled of fresh paint and new furniture. There were two bedrooms, and a private, sunny promenade deck.

The porters carried in dozens of suitcases. Maddie, Lucy, and Ida ran to the windows and jumped onto the sofas. Rose laid her hat and purse on a chair. "We need a little color in this room," she said.

Ida looked at her with a moronic face. "You need to stop talking to yourself." Maddie and Lucy laughed.

* * *

The ship sailed at noon. The next stop was Cherbourg. Rose stood in a corridor with Maddie, Lucy, Ida, and the Beckwiths, waiting for an elevator.

"I hear that vulgar Brown woman has come aboard," Mrs. Beckwith said.

"_Tres nouveau_," proclaimed Maddie.

"What makes her vulgar?" asked Rose.

"She's from Missouri." Ida laughed.

"Her husband won the lottery," Maddie said. "Her money isn't _earned_."

"Exactly," said Mrs. Beckwith. "Coming into money without the smarts to know how to use it is...well, it's vulgar."

The elevator doors opened, and the Beckwiths stepped inside. Maddie, Lucy and Ida followed.

"Sorry, Miss," the operator said, pulling a cage-like door closed in her face. "You'll have to catch the next one."

Maddie and Ida laughed. The elevator descended, leaving Rose alone.


	2. April 11

By the next afternoon, the ship was steaming west from the coast of Ireland, with nothing ahead but ocean. In the dining room, Mr. and Mrs. Beckwith shared a table for two. Several feet away, Rose sat with Maddie, Lucy, and Ida. The dishes had never been used, the glasses sparkled in the sun, and a vase of flowers adorned the table.

"Why did they name it _Titanic_?" Ida asked.

"It means 'big,'" said Maddie.

"Don't you think it's kind of Freudian?" Rose smirked, taking a bite of her sandwich.

"Kind of what?" asked Ida.

"Wow, Rose," said Lucy. "What a big word for such a little brain."

Rose looked down at her plate. She pushed her hair over her shoulder.

"Keep your nasty red hair away from my food," Ida said. "Why don't you just go sit with someone else?"

"We're on a boat," Rose told her. "It's like I know anyone else here."

"It's not like I know anyone else_ here_," Ida repeated, in a ridiculously stupid voice.

Rose finished her lunch as quickly as she could.

* * *

She walked across the outside deck, squinting in the sun. She leaned against the rails and looked below. The third-class passengers all seemed to be dressed in various shades of brown, and a cacophony of accents and languages rose up through the air. Shading her eyes, she looked all the way to the end of the bow. She saw two guys, both a few years older. One was blond and the other looked Italian. The blond one climbed onto the rails and spread his arms. He threw back his head and exclaimed, "Woo-hoo! I'm the king of the world!"

_God_, Rose thought, _what a..._ Oh, well. Maybe standing on the ship's bow really was such a rush that you'd feel compelled to shout something...even something like that.

* * *

Six hours later, the sky was dark and Rose was dressed for dinner. She had spent the afternoon walking around the deck. And then she'd walked around the deck some more.

She held onto the rail of the grand staircase as she descended the steps. Men in tuxedos and women in evening gowns crossed back and forth in front of her. As she neared the dining room, she felt a nervous sickness in her stomach. A door was pushed open and held for her. She looked into the candlelit room, and saw the Beckwiths sitting alone. Then she found Maddie, Lucy, and Ida, at a triangular table for three.

* * *

She ran down the wooden deck, holding her tight skirt up to her knees. Her heels clicked across the floorboards. Tears blurred her vision, and she gasped for breath. She pushed a man out of her way and ran to the staircase.

The night was cold. She ran. Up one flight of stairs and down another. She arrived at the bow and let her stomach hit the railings hard.

Dark water crashed against the ship. Freezing air blew into her face. She leaned over the railings and cried.

_They'll never even find my body, _she thought._ I'll just disappear. _

She put one foot onto the lowest rail, and climbed over. Turning her body, she steadied herself.

Before her eyes, the deck was dark and empty. In the distance, she saw lights and heard music. Above, stars shone in the night sky, a sky more enormous than she had ever seen.

_Seventeen years_, she thought. _And this is the end._

Her feet slipped. She yelped and held tightly onto the rails. She screamed. _Oh my god, I'm going to die!_

She hung, helpless, in the air. Below her, the propellers turned. She had to climb. Thoughts raced too quickly for words. She wasn't strong enough to pull herself...she had to pull herself...

She let go with one hand and found the next rail. Then the next, and the next, until she could kneel onto the deck. Holding on with both arms, she climbed over. She collapsed to the floorboards. Ahead of her were words so hateful they had made her think she wanted to die. Behind her was the water. She looked up. Above her, was the sky.


	3. April 12

On a first-class deck, Rose leaned back into a chair. Her sketch book was in her lap and a charcoal pencil was in her hand. People crossed back and forth in front of her, and a couple of little kids spun Bey Blades around the wooden floorboards.

The air was salty and cool. She looked out into the horizon, and down onto her sketchbook. She drew black lines across the paper, and then filled in the ocean and the sun.

"Hey, that's pretty good," said a voice from above. Rose looked up and saw Mrs. Brown, wearing a bright red velour track suit that was too tight for her body. "Can I see more?"

"All right," Rose said, and Mrs. Brown sat down in the chair beside her. Rose handed her the sketchbook.

"These are _very_ good, actually," Mrs. Brown said, flipping the pages. Rose saw that she had covered her skin with bright makeup, and her fingers were adorned with gaudy rings. "Are you working your way toward the pros?"

"No," said Rose. "I'm working may way toward Sarah Lawrence, where I am to meet a rich husband, and spend the rest of my days in utter boredom."

"Well, don't complain," Mrs. Brown said. "It's better than being poor."

"No, it isn't," said Rose. "Being poor couldn't be worse than..."

Mrs. Brown put down the sketchbook. "I saw you last night," she said. "Running across the deck with tears running down your face."

Rose looked down into her lap.

"You want to tell me what happened?"

Rose shook her head.

Mrs. Brown spoke quietly. "You think I don't know what they say about me? I've been told to go back to my trailer and my food stamps. One day I just realized, 'Hey, I don't have to_ believe_ what they say.'"

"But it's different," Rose said. "It's different when you actually have to live in a dorm with them, when there's no escape..."

"I know," Mrs. Brown said. "When you're a teenager, your only option is to ask for help, and if no one helps you - "

"All you can do is wait," Rose said. "Wait till you're old enough to be in charge of you own life."

"Well, there you go!" exclaimed Mrs. Brown, standing up. "You've found the answer." She handed Rose the sketchbook and said, "And you have to use this, honey. Use whatever you're going through now as a building block. A building block for the rest of your life."

* * *

At dinner that night, Rose sat at a table with the Beckwiths, Maddie, Lucy, and Ida. A waiter spooned caviar onto her plate.

"Have you seen those hairy animals in third class?" Ida asked.

"The dogs?" asked Maddie.

"No, the people!" Ida shouted, and slapped the tablecloth as she laughed.

"Why do you say things like that?" Rose asked.

"'Cause it's funny!" shouted Ida.

Rose looked across the table, and her anger increased. "But they're people," she said. "And you just happen to have been born rich, and they just happen to have been born poor, and you act like you're better than they are..."

"It's not a matter of fate, Rose," said Mrs. Beckwith, setting down her champagne glass. "It's a matter of hard work and intelligence."

"But how do you know they don't work hard?" she asked. "And why do you think they're stupid? I mean, have you ever even known...you've just known your maids and your..."

"Rose," said Mr. Beckwith, "the fact is, you're very young and very naive. You're under the impression that you know everything. But your seventeen years of experience has been very limited."

"So, when I'm older I'll hate people who don't have as much money as me?"

"Yes," he said. "Now let's talk about something else."

* * *

Rose followed the Beckwiths, Maddie, Lucy, and Ida down the corridor. She walked slowly, allowing the crowd to separate her from her companions. At a staircase, she paused. The bright beaded evening gowns and tuxes were ascending. Rose looked below. She heard the faint sound of a drum, and a woman's laughter. Looking up again, she waited in place until the Beckwiths and the three girls were out of sight. Then she started down the stairs.

As she crept along, the air became more smoky and the music became more loud. The beat of a drum resonated deep within her body. At the bottom of the stairs, she saw the party.

A wooden platform in the middle of the room was the dance floor. Tables circled it, and people were everywhere in the dark, smoky air. They tripped and spilled their glasses of beer, laughed and spoke in different languages.

Rose crept along the back wall and found a rickety chair in an inconspicuous space. She watched two men armwrestle with cigarettes clamped tightly in their mouths. The music made her want to get up, made her want to dance, but she didn't dare.

A girl her age passed her, and her eyes shown. "The dress is nice," she said in broken English.

"Thank you," said Rose, and looked at the other girl's plain green outfit. An idea came to her mind. "Do you want to trade?"

"Trade?"

"Trade," Rose said. "My dress for yours."

The other girl's eyes grew big and she looked down Rose's body. "My dress for yours?"

Nodding her head, Rose said, "Where can we change?"

* * *

After midnight, she snuck up the stairs in a worn green dress, unlocked the door, and crept into her room.


	4. April 13

Rose stumbled onto the promenade deck, still wearing pajamas. Sunbeams shone in the windows. Maddie, Lucy, Ida, and the Beckwiths sat at the table, which was piled with strawberries and biscuits and pitchers of coffee and juice.

"Look who's awake," Maddie said, laughing.

Rose sat in the one empty chair. "I was just tired."

Mr. Beckwith looked directly across the table, into her face. "Your exertions below-decks were no doubt exhausting."

She froze, and then looked up, and saw Ida, laughing.

Rose muttered her words. "So you saw me going downstairs, and instead of stopping me you let me go, just so you could wait till this morning and say that."

"Actually, no," laughed Ida. "We knew where you'd been because you smell."

Mrs. Beckwith's coffee splattered out of her mouth as she laughed. She held a napkin to her mouth and choked. Rose left the table.

* * *

She closed her bedroom door and it immediately opened.

"Rose."

She turned and saw Mrs. Beckwith.

"This kind of behavior is not acceptable."

Rose sat down and Mrs. Beckwith held onto one bed rail. "Your parents have entrusted you into our care while we're on this trip, and you will obey our rules."

Rose looked at her. Did she expect her to say something?

"Now it's time to get ready for church." Mrs. Beckwith left.

* * *

Rose sat at her dressing table, and saw, in the mirror, the other girls moving back and forth between closets, letting their new Parisian dresses cascade over their heads. Rose pulled a brush, slowly, through her hair. She waited until Maddie, Lucy, and Ida left the room.

She had stuffed the dingy green dress she'd acquired below-decks into the back of the closet. She pulled it out and put it on. Looking in a full-length mirror, she tried to pull the wrinkles out of the skirt.

"Rose!" Mrs. Beckwith called.

"I'm coming!" she called back.

She waited until she heard the door open and close.

* * *

The chapel was near the dining room, on the other side of the grand staircase. Rose walked slowly, letting people cross in front of her. She saw Maddie, Lucy, Ida, and the Beckwiths enter the chapel. When she arrived at the glass-paneled door, it closed in her face.

"Sorry, Miss," the porter said. "You're not supposed to be here."

Rose looked down at her dress. "But..."

"You're going to have to turn around."

"Well," she muttered to herself, heading back to the stairway, "I guess that's what Jesus would do."

* * *

She pulled open the top drawer of her dressing table. A box of charcoal pencils sat inside, but where was her sketchbook? She pulled open the next drawer and the next, but they were both empty. She went to the closet. She emptied her trunks and threw clothes on the floor in a frantic pile.

She heard the door open and heard Mrs. Beckwith's voice, and Ida's, and Lucy's, and Maddie's, and she kept looking. The bedroom door opened.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"I can't find my sketchbook. I know I left it in the drawer..."

"Has anyone seen Rose's sketchbook?" Mrs. Beckwith called into the parlor.

"No-oh," chorused three voices.

"I'm sure it'll turn up," Mrs. Beckwith said.

* * *

"But why do you have two steering wheels?"

"We really only use this near shore," said Mr. Andrews.

Rose stood slightly behind Mr. and Mrs. Beckwith. The other girls had declared that a tour of the ship would be "boring," and were who-knows-where.

"Excuse me, sir," a man in a uniform walked onto the bridge and handed the captain a note. "Another ice warning."

"Thank you," said Captain Smith, taking the sheet of paper. Then, smiling at Rose and the Beckwiths, "Oh, not to worry. Quite normal for this time of year."

On the deck, Mr. Andrews walked along the row of lifeboats. "2,200 souls on board," he said.

Rose saw numbers and division signs in her head. "Are there not enough lifeboats for everyone?"

Mr. Andrews turned to her. "Not by half, actually. It was thought that the deck would look too cluttered - "

"It's a waste of deck-space as it is in an unsinkable ship," said Mr. Beckwith, rapping on a canvas-covered lifeboat.

Rose looked down the deck and shielded her eyes from the sun. Maddie, Lucy, and Ida stood at the railing, holding something...she ran as fast as she could. "Give me that!" she shouted. "Give it to me!"

Just as she reached for her sketchbook, Maddie let it fall from her hands. Rose leaned frantically over the railing, and saw the pages fly out and coast to the water.

"Oops," Ida said, and laughed.


	5. April 14

Rose stood at the gift shop counter. "The biggest one," she said. "And a box of pencils."

The cashier pulled an unwieldly large sketch pad down from a shelf as Rose snapped open her purse. She paid and took the sketch pad out onto the deck. Opening the box of pencils, she found a place in front of the railings and sat down on the floor boards. The sketch pad's cover was blue and white and adorned with the logo of the White Star Line. She folded it over and looked for something to draw.

Below, on the third-class deck, she saw him. He stood looking out at the water, and the breeze blew his hair. _Well_, she thought,_ if it isn't the King of the World. _

She ran a smudge of graphite across the page and hoped he would stay in place. Her eyes moved up discreetly, and down to the paper again.

She was finishing his chin when he moved. She looked at the drawing. She folded it over and decided to draw something else.

"Can I see it?"

She jumped and he laughed. He stood beside her, his arms wrapped around the railings.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he said. "I'm Jack. Jack Dawson."

"Rose," she said. "Rose DeWitt Bukater."

"I'll have to write that one down." He laughed. "Can I see my picture?"

She smiled and flipped the page of her sketch pad.

"Wow, it's good," Jack told her. He pulled himself up and over the rails, looking around for someone who might stop him. Rose stood up, next to him.

"Do you only draw people?" he asked. "Or things?"

"I don't usually draw people," she said, quietly. "Because I don't really have anyone who would...never mind."

She had spoken so quietly, she thought he couldn't have heard. Then she looked into his eyes and knew that he had.

"You have your parents, don't you? Your family?"

"I guess," she said. "I don't see them very much when I'm at school."

"My parents died when I was fifteen," he told her. "I've been on my own ever since. I was homeless in Santa Monica for a few years."

She looked out onto the water. "I'd like to draw you again," she said. "But I want to draw your...your vulnerability."

* * *

"Is this going to be all right?" he asked, as Rose opened the door to her cabin.

"Yeah, it's fine," she said, walking from room to room to be sure they were alone.

"Where do you want me?"

"On the bed - the_ couch_," she said. "And I want to draw all of you. I don't want you covered with clothes. Take them off."

* * *

Half an hour later, she had finished his face and was starting on his body. They hadn't spoken. And then he said, "Do you think things happen for a reason?"

"Things?" she asked. "What kind of things?"

"Things like your parents being killed in an accident...or things like a girl your age feeling like she's all alone in the world."

"I _am_ alone," she said. "It's not like I just _think_ I am."

"And why do you think that is?"

"Because everyone I know hates me."

"But what's the deeper reason?"

"_Deep_er reason," she muttered. "There's no _deep_er reason."

"Maybe you were meant for something bigger than this," he said, gesturing around the room. "Something great."

"So it's all a blessing in disguise?"

"Exactly," he said, "You should be thankful for everything that happens - the good things and the bad. Because they make you who you are."

"All right," she said. "I'll just go up to Maddie Astor and say, 'Thank you. Thanks for treating me like crap.'"

"I'm serious," he laughed. "You should."

* * *

They stood on the promenade deck together, looking out the window. Jack had reassembled his clothes. The sky was dark, and cold air blew inside.

"What are you going to do when the ship docks?" she asked.

"Make my way to the next place. Or just see what New York has to offer."

Rose's hands and face were cold. The cold made them stiff and difficult to move. She leaned to the side, and pressed her cheek onto his. He turned his head slightly, and their lips came together. They kissed in the cold air, as the ship moved through the dark Atlantic.

* * *

"What are you going to do with it?" he asked, as she picked up the finished drawing. "Hide it somewhere?"

"I'm going to put it here." She danced over to the fireplace. A vase of flowers stood on the mantle. Rose set the drawing in front of the mirror. "Where everyone can see it."

They heard voices in the hall. "Come on," she said, grabbing his hand. She pulled him to the door just as it opened. Maddie, Lucy, and Ida tumbled inside. Their eyes grew big and Ida's mouth popped open when they saw Jack. Mrs. Beckwith stood behind them.

"Rose," she said, "what have you been doing?"

"Nothing," Rose smirked, taking Jack's hand. She pulled him through the doorway and down the hall, running. Then Ida screamed, "Oh my God!" and Mrs. Beckwith shouted, "Rose! Rose, come back here!"

They ran into an elevator and pulled shut the door. It descended down, down, to a third-class corridor. When the door opened, Rose laughed uncontrollably and took Jack's hand.

They ran down one hall and the next, not knowing or caring where they led. When they saw another elevator, they hopped on. When it stopped, they hopped off, and found themselves in a place full of huge machinery. Smoke billowed around them, and everything seemed to be made of brass.

"Hey!" a sweaty man shouted at them. "You're not supposed to be down here! It could be dangerous!"

They ran past him, and through a doorway. Through the next doorway, they found another elevator. When she stepped inside, Rose leaned back and breathed hard.

* * *

They walked outside into the cold air. The deck was deserted. They wrapped their arms around each other. Rose leaned forward, letting him support her weight.

"God, look at that!" Jack shouted, suddenly.

Rose turned and looked up. At first, she thought she was looking at the ocean, and the ocean had changed color. Then she saw the jagged edges of the iceberg.

"It's gonna hit!"

The crew was screaming. "Get back!" Jack shouted, pushing her away. She stumbled back.

She heard a horrible scraping sound, as pieces of ice rained down around her. Then the boat sailed into the open water.

"That was close," Jack said.

"Close? It hit it."

She heard voices as people ran up from the third-class corridor onto the deck. "What happened?" they all seemed to ask at once.

"Iceberg," Jack said.

Some guy kicked around a block of ice. "Good thing the ship's unsinkable."

Rose took Jack's hand. "I'm cold," she said. "Let's go back in."

* * *

The third-class corridor was narrow and plain. People poured out of their rooms, asking questions and looking worried.

"Jack!" The name was called with an Italian accent. "Jack, what happened?"

"Fabrizio," he said, turning around. "We hit an iceberg."

Rose heard a shreik and looked down the hall. _Rats?_ she thought. _Seriously, rats?_ Dozens of them scurried towards her, dodging people but unafraid. She yelped and jumped out of the way.

"Acqua!" someone shouted. Then, "Wasser!" and "Woda!"

She and Jack and Fabrizio flattened themselves against the wall as the crowd rushed forward. Rose looked down and saw that the ocean was inside the boat. Cold water covered her feet.

"This way!" Jack shouted, after the crowd had dissipated. He took Rose's hand and pulled her towards a doorway as her feet splashed and Fabrizio followed.

They ran until they came to an empty staircase. At the top, they crashed into an iron gate. Jack grabbed onto it with both hands and shouted.

From down the hall, they heard voices. "Let us out!" they screamed, and, "Water's coming in!"

"Not now! Not yet!" The voices of the crew were nearly inaudible under the voices of the crowd.

"Help!" Jack shouted, rattling the gate back and forth. A man in a uniform appeared.

"Please, remain calm," he said, but his voice was quick and afraid and he kept looking up and down the hall. "The first-class has to be evacuated first. You have to wait for the first class - "

"I'm in the first class!" Rose shouted. "My room's upstairs...let me out!"

"Well, anyone could say that they're..." He turned away.

Rose screamed, "My father's a lawyer and if you don't let me out of here you're going to spend the next two years defending yourself and you're going to have so many goddamn legal fees that you'll be in debt for the rest of your life!"

He came back. "All right, you little brat," he said, extracting a keyring from his pocket. "But only you."

The gate swung open and Rose stepped out. "But..." she said, looking back.

"It's all right," Jack said. "Go. We'll be all right."

She looked at him and Fabrizio, knowing what they didn't. Then she left.

* * *

She ran upstairs, down one empty corridor and another. Finally, she arrived at the grand staircase. Looking into the open doors of the dining room, she saw a man standing alone.

"Mr. Andrews!" she shouted, running forward. "Mr. Andrews, what's happening?"

He looked at her as if she wasn't really there. "Rose, why aren't you on the deck?" he asked. "Where's your life vest?"

"Is the boat going to sink?"

He nodded, slowly. "In less than an hour, all of this will be at the bottom of the ocean."

She looked around. Tables and chairs and dishes...

"You remember?" he told her. "About the lifeboats?"

She nodded. Then she ran.

* * *

The deck was cold and dark and she didn't have a coat. The orchestra played, and the crew were shouting, "Remain calm! Don't panic!"

A voice behind her said, "If there wasn't any reason to panic they wouldn't tell us not to."

Rose turned. She saw Mrs. Brown, dressed in a gaudy fur coat. "Rose!" she said, walking forward and taking her arm. "Why aren't you with your friends?"

"Because they're not my friends," she muttered.

"Well, Mr. Beckwith's been looking for you." She pulled Rose forward. She searched the deck and waved her hand.

Rose looked far down the deck and saw the Beckwiths. They were stepping onto a lifeboat where Maddie, Lucy, and Ida already sat.

"Don't worry!" shouted Mrs. Brown. "I've got her right here! She'll be fine!"

Rose saw Mrs. Beckwith clutch her husband's arm in relief. "Come on, darlin'," said Mrs. Brown. "You're next."

Rose climbed over the edge of the deck, into a lifeboat. It shook as she stepped to the furthest seat and sat down. She clutched onto the wooden edges.

Mrs. Brown and a few others climbed in after her. Rose looked up to the perfect night sky, and realized that this would be international news, and that she would be a part of history.

Mrs. Brown laughed. "Well, I guess the ship's not unsinkable after all. But I am!"

"Lower away!"

The lifeboat jerked and dropped down to the water. Rose sat next to a woman who was sobbing and coughing.

The lifeboat reached the water and the guy in a uniform paddled out into the ocean. Rose breathed hard and knew she was safe.

Just then, somebody screamed. She looked and saw one of the lifeboats. One of its ropes had snapped while the other remained. "Oh, dear God!" Mrs. Brown whispered, clutching Rose's arm. Then Rose realized who was on the boat. And she watched Mr. and Mrs. Beckwith, Maddie, Lucy, and Ida crash into the water and disappear.

_That's where I'd be right now_, she thought, _if I hadn't...if they hadn't..._

She heard Jack's words in her mind: _But what's the deeper reason?_


	6. Epilogue: 2097

Sunlight poured in the windows. Rose sat at her pottery wheel, pumping with her foot while her hands shaped a mass of clay. Her ilife sat on the window sill, and she listened to the news.

"...relics..._Titanic_..."

Suddenly, she stopped working. "VU," she said, and the ilife's volume rose.

"What is it, Nana?" Lizzie asked, following her chihuahua into the room.

"Adjust that, dear," Rose said.

Lizzie set the ilife where a brighter sunbeam would hit its solar panel. A man said, "...this drawing was found...has been at the bottom of the ocean for eighty-five years..."

Rose found her cane and pushed herself to her feet. She walked stiffly to the window.

On the screen, she saw a pencil drawing of a man. She gasped and put her hand to her mouth. "I'll be goddamned."

* * *

"You really think that's your drawing?" Lizzie asked.

"It_ is_ mine, dear. I drew it the night the ship sank."

"You should tell everyone."

"Oh, no, I...I couldn't put myself on that thing."

"Why?" she asked. "Listen to what people are saying: PV."

The first response video played. A young girl was on the screen, and she said, "It's a shame whoever drew it is probably dead now..."

Another video played, and a man said, "If the guy in the picture is still alive, he'd have to be like a hundred and twenty..."

"Oh, he wouldn't be that old," Rose said.

"Who was he, Nana?"

"His name was Jack," she said. "Jack Dawson."

"Was he at your school?"

"No, I met him on the ship - "

"Wait a minute," Lizzie said. She adjusted the ilife. "MV."

A light came on. "Go ahead," Lizzie said.

* * *

"It's been eighty-five years...I was only seventeen...This was before the polar ice caps melted, before all the floods...There were still icebergs in the Atlantic Ocean, as hard as that is to believe..."

"You were still Rose Dewitt Bukater back then. It was before you got married and became Rose Calvert."

She nodded. "I had gone on a school trip to Europe. I didn't want to go...my parents insisted. They thought Europe would be a good experience for me."

"Why didn't you want to go?" Lizzie asked.

"The three other girls I went with were...well, back then they called it 'bullying.' The thought of having to vacation with them was..." She put her face into her hands and shook her head back and forth.

"And none of them made it, did they?"

"No," she said, "they all died. Madeleine Astor, Lucy Carter, and Ida Straus. And our chaperones, Sallie and Richard Beckwith. They made it to a lifeboat, but one of the ropes snapped..."

"And you were in a different boat?"

Rose nodded. "And it saved my life."

"What about Jack Dawson?" Lizzie asked. "What happened to him?"

"I never knew. After I arrived back home, there were lists in the newspaper...lists of all the survivors and lists of the people who died. I read those lists over and over...and I never found his name."

"That's weird," Lizzie said.

Rose nodded. "But he was a third-class passenger...it's unlikely he made it."

"Did you...how well did you know him?"

"Oh...we ran around together on the ship...we knew each other for a day or two."

"But you drew him naked!"

"Yes," Rose laughed. "I knew it would piss off the Beckwiths."

She took a deep breath and Lizzie said, "MVO. Nana, you need to rest."

"No, dear," she said. "I'm all right. Are you going to post that thing?"

"Of course. Maybe they'll give you your drawing."

* * *

Rose awoke. Her dog was cuddled beside her in the chair. She let her eyes shut and dozed. She awoke again.

"Are you awake, Nana?" Lizzie asked. "Watch this. PV."

The ilife sat on the coffee table. "Thank you, Mrs. Calvert, for your video," the man on the screen said, looking into the camera. He stood on a boat and spoke into a satellite phone. "Our sources confirm that you are a _Titanic_ survivor, and we have no reason to doubt that this is your drawing. But since there is no record of a Jack Dawson aboard the ship, we think it must be a drawing of someone else."

"No, no," Rose said, shaking her head back and forth. "Jack Dawson. That was his name."

"This is getting a lot of attention," Lizzie said. "It was the most popular search today."

"Jack Dawson," she repeated. "Jack Dawson." She closed her eyes. She saw the grand staircase, felt the cold wind and smelled the salty ocean.

"Do you want to watch more?" Lizzie asked.

"No," she said. "I want to eat dinner."

* * *

After dinner, Lizzie helped her into her chair. "Check tomorrow's weather, dear," Rose said.

"IO," Lizzie said. "Weather."

Rose heard the meteorologist's voice drone about more sun, and a cool 80-degree day. She closed her eyes.

* * *

"Nana," Lizzie said, gently shaking her arm. "Nana, look at this."

Rose looked at the ilife. "PV," Lizzie said.

A man appeared on the screen. He was bald, he wore glasses, and his face was covered with age spots. "Hello, Rose," he said, smiling. "Do you remember? How everything smelled of fresh paint?"

Rose looked back at him and her eyes filled with tears. "Yes," she said. "I remember."


End file.
